


Appendicitis

by justspn



Category: Supernatural
Genre: CaringBobby, Gen, Sickfic, sickDean
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-02-05
Updated: 2015-02-05
Packaged: 2018-03-10 15:06:51
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,969
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3294878
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/justspn/pseuds/justspn
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Dean gets sick at Bobby's and take a trip to the hospital.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Appendicitis

John started the Impala, smiling at the way it rumbled powerfully underneath him. He adjusted his rearview mirror so he could see his youngest son, Sam, in the reflection. His eyes were already drifting shut. Dean, John’s oldest son, was in the front seat. He was still awake, but John could tell he wanted to fall asleep just as badly as Sam.   
John pulled out of the parking lot for the city park and headed to the highway.   
“Are we headed to Uncle Bobby’s?” Dean asked.   
“Yeah. I figure if we drive all night we should be there by midday tomorrow.” John answered. Dean just nodded and faced the window. Before John could ask Dean where he wanted to stop for dinner, Dean was asleep. John turned the radio volume down and took off for Bobby’s. 

“Hi Uncle Bobby!” Sam said excitedly running up to Bobby, hugging his legs.   
“Hey kiddo. Where’s your brother?” Bobby asked. He thought it was strange that Dean wasn’t right at Sam’s side.   
“He was still sleeping in the car. Dad’s waking him up now.” Sam answered. “Can I watch some cartoons?” he asked, changing the subject.   
“Go right ahead.” Bobby told him. Sam smiled and ran to the couch, curling up with the remote and Saturday morning toons.   
Bobby went to the door and looked out to find John and Dean. Dean was carrying his and Sam’s bags and was trudging up the stairs of the porch. Bobby thought he looked kind of pale, but didn’t say anything. John followed Dean, carrying his own bag plus the weapons bag.   
“Hi Bobby.” Dean said before stepping around Bobby into the house.   
“Hey kiddo. Sam’s watching TV.” Bobby said. Dean nodded and headed for the stairs to bring the bags upstairs.   
“Bobby. Good to see you.” John said, shaking Bobby’s hand.   
“You too. How’re things going?” Bobby asked, following John into the kitchen.   
“Just fine. I’m looking for a case now.” John answered, spreading his weapons on the kitchen table to clean. Bobby watched Dean come down the stairs and go to the couch to sit with Sam. He sighed and started telling John about a shifter case 150 miles south of Sioux Falls. 

“Time for bed boys.” John said, standing up from the kitchen table. He glanced at the clock. It was pretty late. John wondered why Dean hadn’t brought Sam up to bed hours ago. Sams got up and shut the TV off. He went up the stairs to the room he shared with Dean. Dean didn’t move.   
“Dean.” John said again, growing frustrated with his oldest son.   
Dean jumped, looking around. “Huh? What?” he asked, seeing his father.   
“Go to bed son.” John said, his voice softening. Dean stood up and walked by John to get to the stairs. John held out a hand and stopped Dean. John pulled Dean up to him and held his shoulders. “You feelin’ okay?”   
“I feel fine, sir.” Dean answered. John cocked an eyebrow but didn’t pursue the issue. Dean’s face was pale and he wasn’t usually one to sleep through the day.   
“Alright. Go to bed then.” Dean nodded and went up the stairs. Bobby watched silently from the table.   
John went back to his chair and sat down with a sigh.   
“He okay?” Bobby asked.   
“I think he might be coming down with something. He slept all the way here, plus however long he was asleep on the couch with Sam.” John said. “Would you mind watching him while I take this shifter case?” John asked, motioning to the papers he had spread across the table.   
“Not at all. You want Sam here too?” Bobby asked. He liked it when the boys stayed with him. He got the feeling they liked it too.   
“Yeah. They don’t do well separated. What good would an 8 year old do on a case anyway?” John asked. Bobby just nodded before standing up to refill his coffee mug with whiskey. 

“Dean?” Sam asked when Dean crawled into his bed.   
“What?” Dean snapped. He just wanted to go back to sleep.  
“Do you think Dad will take us with him on this shifter hunt?”   
Dean sighed. “What do you think?”   
“No.”   
“That’s what I think. Now go to sleep Sam.” Dean said, rolling over. He closed his eyes and pulled the blankets up over his head. Sam started wiggling around across the room, making the sheets rustle. Dean clenched his jaw. His head was already pounding, he didn’t need noisy sheets to help it along. He folded his pillow over his head, covering his ears. That blocked out the noise, but it was too hot for him to stay like that for very long.   
“Sam, stop wiggling.” Dean snapped, pushing his pillow off his head. Sam didn’t answer. Dean sighed, figuring Sam must have fallen asleep already. He sat up, pulled his blanket off the bed, and grabbed his pillow. He went downstairs to the couch. John and Bobby were still sitting at the table talking quietly. Dean curled up on the couch and closed his eyes. John and Bobby’s voices were much easier to fall asleep to than Sam’s rustling sheets. 

“Morning sunshine.” Bobby said when Dean finally woke up. Dean stretched, muttered a “Good morning”, and went into the bathroom. He closed the door behind him and leaned on the counter. His head felt full of sludge, and his stomach hurt. His reflection in the mirror was startlingly pale. He splashed cold water on his face to wake himself up and went back out into the living room. Bobby hadn’t moved, but Sam had taken over the couch and TV.   
“Did Dad leave?” Dean asked, sitting at the table with Bobby. He wanted to curl up on the couch again, but Bobby would expect him to take interest in whatever he was researching. Dean wanted to pretend everything was normal so he wouldn’t draw attention to himself.   
“Yep. Was out of the house before the sun even came up.” Bobby answered, looking up from the book he was reading. He noticed the lack of color in Dean’s face. “You sick boy?” he asked. Dean shook his head.   
“Just tired.” he answered. Bobby squinted in Dean’s direction.  
“You sure? You’ve been sleeping a lot lately. You’re Dad wanted me to check on you, make sure you’re okay.” Bobby said. Dean lowered his gaze so he wouldn’t have to look Bobby in the eyes.   
“I’ll be okay after I sleep some more.” Dean said.   
“So you’re not feelin’ good?” Bobby asked. Dean groaned inwardly, kicking himself for giving himself up like that. Dean shook his head. “Why didn’t you just say that in the first place?” Bobby asked, standing up. He walked over to Dean and felt his forehead. He felt warmer than normal. Bobby frowned. “Where are you feeling sick?” he asked.   
“My stomach hurts and I’m tired and kind of dizzy.” Dean answered. Bobby could tell he wasn’t lying. His body language could have told Bobby exactly what was wrong with the boy. He was hunched over, almost cradling his stomach, and he had dark circles under his eyes.   
“Go lie on the couch. I’ll go get the thermometer.” Bobby said. Dean shuffled over to the couch. Sam moved over so Dean could curl up under the blankets, and then snuggled into his older brother.   
Bobby pulled his first aid kit off the top of the fridge and dug around for the thermometer, some Tylenol, and some stomach settler. He went back to the living room and put the thermometer in Dean’s mouth. Dean closed his eyes and pulled his knees closer to his chest. It felt like someone was trying to rip his stomach apart. His head ached and he was shivering. Bobby’s brow knitted with concern when Dean’s temperature kept rising. The thermometer finally beeped and Bobby took it out of Dean’s mouth.   
“It’s not too bad. Think you can stomach some Tylenol?” Bobby asked.   
“Guess so.” Dean whispered, pulling the blankets up higher over his head. Bobby got him a glass of water and gave him the Tylenol. 

“Bobby!” Sam yelled from the living room. Dean was making strange noises while he slept, like he was trying to burp. “Bobby!” Sam yelled again. He was shaking Dean but he wouldn’t wake up.   
“What boy?” Bobby asked, coming into the living room from upstairs. Sam pointed to Dean and Bobby rushed to his side. He sat Dean up, slapping his cheek to wake him up. Dean’s eyes fluttered open and his hand went up to cover his mouth. Bobby already had a bucket under Dean’s chin. Sam had to look away while Dean threw up. Bobby felt his heart break when he saw the tears running down Dean’s cheeks. He wiped them away gently with his thumb.   
“You’ll be alright boy.” Bobby said quietly. When Dean was done emptying his stomach, Bobby laid him back down on the couch. He brought the bucket to the bathroom and cleaned it out. When he brought it back, Sam was tucking the blanket around Dean’s shoulders.   
“Let’s take your temperature again, okay?” Bobby said, taking the instrument out of its plastic case. Dean nodded miserably and let Bobby put it in his mouth.   
“Sam, will you go fill this with water?” Bobby asked, handing Sam Dean’s empty glass. Sam nodded and took off to the kitchen. Dean groaned and curled in on himself, his stomach cramping painfully. He felt a few tears slide down his cheeks. Bobby wiped them away.   
“Your stomach hurt that bad?” Bobby asked, crouching down next to Dean. Dean nodded, opening his eyes when the cramp ended. “Can you lie flat for me? I’m gonna feel your stomach to see if hurts in a particular place. Dean moved slowly, uncurling himself. He rolled onto his back and pushed the blankets off of his body. Bobby pulled up his shirt and lightly pressed his fingers against Dean’s exposed skin. Dean didn’t react until Bobby got to the space between his ribcage and his right hip. Dean let out a yelp, the thermometer falling to the floor. The tears were flowing more freely now, and Bobby felt bad for making the kid cry.   
“That’s what I was afraid of.” Bobby said, pulling Dean’s shirt back down. “I think you’ve got appendicitis kid.”   
“If I rest it’ll be fine.” Dean whispered, wiping his face with his hands. Bobby shook his head sadly.  
“It doesn’t work that way with your appendix. Sorry.” Bobby stood and got a few Tylenol for Dean along with some Pepto. Sam came back with the water. “Drink as much as you can. You don’t want to get dehydrated.”   
“Okay.” Dean said.   
Bobby went into the kitchen and picked up his real house phone. He dialed John’s number and waited for him to pick up. He didn’t.   
“John, Dean’s in a bad way. I’m gonna have to take him to the hospital. It’s his appendix. Call me on my cell when you get this.” Bobby said, hanging up when he finished leaving John the voicemail. He went back to the living room. Sam was looking at his brother, his eyes big with fear.   
“Time for a roadtrip.” Bobby said. Dean opened his eyes. Bobby knew he hated hospitals, but he didn’t have much of a choice. 

“Hey kid. Feel better?” Bobby asked. Dean looked around groggily. He nodded and reached for the cup of water on the nightstand. He stopped when he felt his side pull painfully.   
“I’ll get it for you.” Sam said, handing Dean the cup.   
“Thanks Sammy.” Dean said. His throat was dry and his voice cracked. Dean took a drink and rested his head back on his pillow. He let his eyes slide close and he drifted off to sleep.


End file.
